


Warm me Through

by jesseofthenorth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F-bombs everywhere, Future Fic, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-28 13:52:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesseofthenorth/pseuds/jesseofthenorth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt : <i>"Sam has a cold or something and is maybekindasorta keeping Dean awake. He feels bad about it and really wants to go sleep in the Impala so Dean can get some sleep. Dean is all like, yeah, no you're sick and it's cold and you're an idiot, Sam."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Warm me Through

Sam's coughing again.

It sounds like his throat is getting ripped apart every time he starts hacking. Dean is the first to admit he can't sleep through it. He wants to make it better just like he used to when Sam was little and still did what Dean told him

 _“ Here. Swallow this Sammy it will make you feel better. I know it tastes gross swallow it any way.”  
or  
“Stop complaining and let me rub this shit on chest. It works **because** of the smell. Quit bitching. YES on your back too.”_

Too bad Sam doesn't look up at him with big round eyes and do what Dean tells him anymore. At least it's too bad when it's 2 in the morning and no one is sleeping because Sam is being a stubborn pain in the ass. Plus there is that whole thing where he is coughing up a lung and Dean is left feeling powerless in the face of a force he cannot deflect.

Dean is just about to drag his broken ass out of bed and go help or something when he hears Sam start moving around.

“Shit” Sam says and stumbles around a bit. Dean decides to give it a minute, kid's not coughing and he doesn't sound too distressed.

The sound of a tap running, a couple more quiet bumps and thumps lull Dean closer to sleep. He is exhausted after the last few days. Not just Sam's cough but the trip to the Doctor’s office but the general stress of finding out the cold Sam had was in fact pneumonia, added to more coughing and well Dean hasn't gotten a lot of sleep. Add Dean's own issues of mobility and chronic pain and it has been a generally shitty week.

He's fucking tired. His eyes slip shut and he starts to drift almost the instant Sam's stops hacking. The sound of the toilet flushing says Sam’s almost done in there and Dean feels himself slipping closer to actual sleep. Right up until the moment he hears the front door open.

“What the -” His feet are hitting the floor before his eyes are open. Of course that's another problem isn’t it? Because Dean can't just leap to his feet and go find out 'what the hell' anymore. Can he? Now Dean has to find his fucking cane or a crutch and if his leg is being a total bitch it can take him five fucking minutes to take his first step.

He's pretty sure he doesn't have 5 minutes. So he grabs the brace and rushes through the familiarity of doing up Velcro snags his cane and does the world’s shittiest approximation of a run for the door. It's more like a geriatric shuffle that Dean will never admit to. He also reserves the right to cold-cock any one stupid enough to say that to his face.  
He hobbles as fast as he can.

He tries not to let panic get a hold. He has no fucking idea what’s actually going on, so panic won’t really help.

“Sam?” he calls trying to be heard without yelling.

It's not a big place so if Sam is inside he’ll hear. No guarantee he can answer though.  
Things are better now. Sam has a handle on all the shit Lucifer left him with. He still gets pretty out of it sometimes. Mostly when that happens Sam will just sit down some place with plenty of light and wait it out.

Which is why Dean is so freaked out by the idea of Sam going outside. It's way beyond what passes for usual when Sam’s tether on reality gets thin. Sam doesn’t just _leave_. Not to mention the fact that Sam’s sick as shit and it's really fucking cold outside. What the hell can he be thinking going out?

It's that question that worries Dean the most. What if he's _not_ thinking, only reacting? Or running. Dean doesn't know a word strong enough for the feeling the thought of Sam, running from his hell, stirs in Deans gut. Terror doesn’t seem like a strong enough descriptor.

Dean gets to the door glad he had the foresight to put his feet into slippers. He grabs his coat and his keys and his phone and heads for the car. Sam can’t have a big enough head start to get far, can he?

Hopefully he stayed on the main road and Dean won’t have to do a bunch of fucking around to find him. Dean loves his baby but today he's really glad she's got an automatic transmission. He's pretty sure he couldn’t push a clutch down even to save Sam's life. His leg is already pounding like a bastard and he has taken less than a dozen steps.

Three steps out the door it's a all a moot point anyway. That’s how long it takes him to find Sam.

He's sitting in the car, or more accurately slumped over inside the car. He looks like shit and Dean can hear him coughing. Again. Still. The stupid son-of-a-bitch.

Sam has pneumonia. His lungs are so full of crap that if he hadn't thrown a massive bitch fit he would be in the hospital _right now_ Sam apparently cannot draw a breath without coughing until he turns purple. So _of course_ he decides that he needs to go hide in the car.

Why? So Dean can get a little sleep? That better not fucking be it or Dean is going to kick his ass. Or beat Sam with his cane.

“Jesus Christ Sam.” Dean says and tries to plop into the driver’s seat with as much dignity as he can manage. Which is to say with no grace at all, given the lateness of the hour and the state of Dean’s leg.

“Not here. Sam mutters and hunches in on himself.

Dean looks at him, bewildered “Who's not here?”

“Jesus.” Sam mutters.

Dean can see him starting to shiver and he doesn't have the patience for Sam's captain comedy routine.

“For fuck's sake! What the fuck are you doing out here?”  
Sam coughs for an answer.

“You think sleeping out here will _help_ with that?” Dean knows he sounds like a dick, but seriously. This is fucking ridiculous. “Sam, get in the fucking house! Before I drag you.”

“I can't stop coughing, Dean.” He sounds kind of forlorn like he’s failing at something.

“I know Sammy.” Dean says, his anger retreating in the face Sam’s distress.

“We don't need to both be awake all night.”

Dean stares at his idiot brother. He is still shocked at how stupid Sam can be, for such a smart guy.

He tries really hard not to yell. Sam is sick and it won't help. Yelling.Won't help. It sure would feel good right about now.

“Sam. Do you honestly think I am going to get a second of sleep knowing you’re out in the cold?”

“I'm in the car.”Sam says, belligerently.

“Which is cold. You didn't even take the keys so you could run the heater. Sam. Come inside.”  
Sam looks at him, looks like he wants to argue.

“Please?” Saying please is dirty pool. Dean doesn't really care. He’ll pull out the mopey eyes if that’s what it takes.

Or he could try logic.

“What fucking good is it having a house if we're gonna sit out here and freeze?”

Dean waits, sees Sam thinking it over. "Come on dumb-ass. I'm freezing my balls off already."

Sam sighs, hangs his head and opens the door of the car. He is out around to Dean’s side before Dean has his own door all the way open. It's probably a good thing too. Dean’s leg is screaming blue murder and he’s pretty sure he's going to need a hand getting to his feet. And a mitt full of painkillers.

“I didn't wanna keep waking you up.” Sam grumbles “you don't get enough sleep.”

Dean _thinks_ 'look who's talking ' but _says_ instead “You want to help me sleep? Stay in the fucking house when it's 20 below out.”

He lets Sam drag him into the warmth of their little house and help him on to the sofa. Sam goes to put wet boots by the door.

“And make some hot chocolate!I'm freezing and that shit will warm you up right away!” Dean demands and flops down on the couch.

Dean bullies Sam into taking his meds .

They drink hot chocolate, with marshmallows, and watch bad late night.

Sam falls asleep sitting up in the big chair. Something about the position makes it so he can breathe again.

‘Dumb-ass.’ Dean thinks fondly before he falls asleep himself able to rest only when they are both okay.

As long as you’re willing to loosen your definition of okay. Whatever. He’ll take what he can get.


End file.
